Captivating
by Erised
Summary: Draco Malfoy is ordered to kidnap Ginny Weasley to be Voldemort's bride. He must persuade her to willingly marry Voldemort, but what happens when the one thing she asks for in return, he can't give to her?
1. why me

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and company. I am the owner of all that is different in this story.

**why**** me**

Draco never liked when the Dark Lord visited. He brought a cloud of helplessness with him wherever he went and he made the chambers reek of death and blood. It was worse than when his cantankerous grandfather was dying and the overweight mediwitch had stayed in the manor, smelling heavily of lavender perfume and saliva. But the Dark Lord's presence couldn't be explained without mentioning the glowing, red eyes set in the snakelike face that made Draco feel completely exposed. If there's one thing Draco never liked, it was the exposure of his emotions, and while the Dark Lord never found them, he kept probing and had an uncanny ability to sense his thoughts and to know things about Draco that he was sure his father would have never mentioned. The Dark Lord might never encounter his emotions, but Draco's thoughts seemed spread before him like a banquet of corpses before a vampire.

Draco did like Nagini, the snake that lay curled on the floor in front of the Dark Lord's chair, the firelight highlighting each separate scale majestically. He had no reason to like her, as she was often used to get rid of persons they no longer needed but perhaps that was the reason he liked her. She was a tool, just like he was. 

The fire, the only light in the room except the glowing hand of the Dark Lord's servant, blazed brightly, lighting the books on the shelves that filled the room. The Dark Lord always insisted on sleeping in one of the studies. Draco's father had filled the shelves with books of a dark nature so that his master would always be entertained. A bed had been moved into the room – Draco recognized it to be the bed his grandfather had slept in until he died – and the green hangings (so dark they were nearly black) were closed, concealing the gruesomely carved headboard, filled with scenes of Goblin battles.

"Come closer boy…" the Dark Lord hissed and Draco obeyed, closing the heavy door behind him silently. The carpet muffled his steps and Draco could see a trail from the corner to the place that the over-stuffed armchair currently was, showing where Wormtail had dragged the chair for his master. The stench of death filled his nostrils as he approached the rotting corpse that was his master and he began to breath discretely through his mouth, sucking the air through his teeth.

"You called for me." Draco didn't bow like the other Death Eaters; a Malfoy should never bow before others. Draco remembered the first time he had met the Dark Lord, and refused to bow to him. His father had knelt respectfully before the Dark Lord, not prostrating himself before him like the others, but Draco had stood, looking the Dark Lord in the eye. After a moment, the Dark Lord had laughed and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder; the touch had nearly made him cringe. "The boy has more gumption than you ever had, Lucius…I won't say anything for common sense, but he has gumption…be careful, boy, who you show it to…" His father hadn't beaten him for being defiant; he had praised him for winning the Dark Lord's favor in such a splendid fashion. And ever since, he had been included in the Dark Lord's closest circle, complete with the reception of the Dark Mark. The mark was quite ugly, but he couldn't help the feeling of belonging whenever it burned black, summoning him.

"Leave us, Wormtail…" the Dark Lord ordered, waving his skeletal hand dismissively. His nails were slightly yellow in color, and torn at the tips and cuticles. The servant with the glowing hand left, a nearly silent whimper escaping as he heard the Dark Lord twist his old, schoolboy nickname in his mouth as if he were tasting a new wine. Draco stayed to the side of the chair; not wanting to look upon the Dark Lord unless he had to. The door shut with a small click behind the servant called Wormtail. "Boy…you have become a faithful servant in your own right…you have never disobeyed me…you have come up with your own clever embellishments to my plans…I recall your provoking Potter last year and taking away his flying privileges, an idea that was not of my conception…" It was the closest to a compliment Draco was ever going to receive.

"Thank you, master," he replied impassively.

"There's no need for that, boy…It is your accomplishments that has chosen you for this most imperative of tasks…you are already well situated for its execution…you possess the cunning required to convince…you are skilled enough to omit blunders…and you are most loyal…" The Dark Lord brought a hand to his chin and stroked the bony protrusion in thought. A few unshaved whiskers grew from it.

 "I am getting old, boy…I am not as able in body as I used to be; this body is of my making but is not my own…I know I cannot die but I feel the need to pass on my empire to someone whose body is their own…I need someone who will be completely loyal to myself with skills that rival my own…" Apprehension filled Draco.

"I would be honored, master."

"Don't interrupt me, boy."

"Forgive me, master."

"I am going to marry and you are going to bring my wife to me." Draco was relieved. He had thought the Dark Lord was going to give him control over all the Death Eaters, and he wasn't sure what he would do with it. Wisely, he kept silent, knowing that the Dark Lord would continue in his own time.

"I have already selected her…all you are required to do is bring her to me…and you will make her willing…I am the most powerful wizard in the world and I will no be refused…" Nagini uncurled on the rug and slithered over to Draco, wrapping twice around his ankle before sliding up his leg to the top of the chair.

"You will bring Ginny Weasley to me in one month…"

"As you wish." The Dark Lord's gnarled hand extended to stroke Nagini's head. She flicked her tongue at him in response.

"You may go…tell Wormtail that he may return…" Draco could see the Dark Lord caressing a dingy, black notebook with his other hand, his fingers stroking the dirty leather like it would stroke a buxom woman. The pages were warped and stained with ink and blood, but Draco didn't linger any longer. He left, controlling his steps so that he wouldn't walk too fast, to find Wormtail cowering by the door, muttering to himself. Draco was reminded of Kreacher, a house-elf that had come to serve them because he belonged to the Black family, which Narcissa was member of. Kreacher was old and insane (he kept muttering to himself) and seemed to refuse to die; he was much older than an ordinary house-elf. Draco had taken an instant dislike to Kreacher, perhaps because Kreacher would mutter his thoughts aloud, creating a hum of insults and praise wherever he went.

The hallways that led to his bedroom were filled with dark and gloom, while impassive portraits watched on the walls. The portraits were magical and so the inhabitants could move within them, they just chose not to, their only movement the eyes which followed him down the hallway.. Some were painted in happy backgrounds, but the inhabitants had long since stopped being gay and happy. A dark cloud had settled over the Malfoy family and the ancestors in the portraits, sensing this darkness, had become withdrawn, still, and silent. When he was younger, some of them would offer him a greeting, and a few dead aunts would fret over him from their gilded frames, but that had long since stopped. As he began to resemble his father more and more, they had acted more and more like he was his father. Sometimes he missed being a little boy.

He left his echoing footfalls when he stepped into his room, thankful that it was in an entirely different wing than the Dark Lord. Mother had furnished it for him, saying men had no taste for decoration. Thanks to her raising, he knew about matching colors, matching prints, and ballroom dancing. She had always wanted a daughter, and therefore had raised him in an effeminate manner his father had entirely disapproved of. Mother couldn't get with child again, he knew. He didn't know why, but she couldn't after him. Maybe that was why his father was so angry.

In the hearth, a fire crackled, warming the room. The red bed hangings were drawn back to show the red satin bedspread, monogrammed with a black and silver M.. Black roses were embroidered around the hems of the curtains, bedspread, and pillows, but when he lay down upon the bed, the embroidery felt soft and malleable, not stiff like one would think. Mother redecorated every month when the sheets were washed from sheer boredom. Last month, there had been royal purple curtains hanging from the ebony bed frame.

Sighing he threw himself backwards onto the bed, receiving an appreciated spring from the mattress. This was the most important mission he had been entrusted with. All of the others had been to simply annoy Potter or get him into trouble. Draco did that without being told to.

But kidnapping Ginny Weasley really wouldn't be hard. If he remembered correctly, she was a slight wisp of nothing with a shock of red hair. She had only retaliated twice directly to him, once in unforgettable embarrassment in Flourish and Blotts and the next when she had hexed him with the bat bogey hex (which he had convinced himself was an accident), but every year after the first she had skirted him in the hallways, her spirit broken by a memory preserved in a diary that she had unleashed. She was probably so afraid of herself and everyone else that she never talked. She would be easy to kidnap, he doubted she'd have the strength to fight him.

But of course convincing her to marry the Dark Lord and bear his children would be more difficult. He was the root of her spinelessness, the source of her fears, and who would want to encounter that once in their lives, never mind marry it? Well, he had a month. He'd think of something.

He leaped from the bed and stripped, not bothering to put on pajamas before climbing into bed. Usually he would sneak back into Hogwarts and sleep there but exhaustion and comfort had won him over. He'd apparate to Hogsmeade early tomorrow morning and sneak back into school before he was missed. Then he would worry about the Weasley girl.

Hidden within the satin bedding, he fell asleep thinking about red amongst the red.

~~~~~

Harry awoke with a start and sat up violently in his bed in Hogwarts. Through the hangings in the Gryfindor colors, the wind blew, chilling the sweat off of him as the remnants of his dream swam in and out of focus in his mind. Harry's scar pulsed with pain in his forehead and he brought his fingers up to it, his wet tips soothing the incessant ache. Voldemort was plotting to kidnap Ginny Weasley and he was sending his most trusted servant to do it. Harry didn't see the servant; only know that he was close to the Dark Lord. He had recognized the voice that only meant that Lucius Malfoy was being sent to kidnap Ginny. He hadn't heard any of the other Death Eaters speak more than a few words and this voice had been familiar, striking a note of contempt within him.

Ginny Weasley was going to be kidnapped.

He had to tell Dumbledore.

He threw back the covers, opened his trunk and pulled out his invisibility cloak. Pulling on and fastening the cloak as he walked, he hurried to the door. Ron grunted in his sleep and rolled onto his back. Harry hesitated in the doorway, wondering whether or not he should tell Ron. But Ron would probably just worry and be overprotective, making Ginny rebel against him and any protections Dumbledore tried to place on her. Ginny was too much like Ron, too much of a spitfire to follow directions, if she was nudged the wrong way. He admired that.

Abandoning Ron's right to know, he left Gryfindor tower and the Fat Lady that called in vain, trying desperately to discover the identity of the student who had left the tower. In his haste, he had forgotten to put on slippers and the stone floor felt like ice.

"_Ice Mice!_" Harry spoke the password to the gargoyle guarding the office, and it sprang out of the way. Ginny could already be in danger. They had to protect her. The spiral staircase seemed to be rising too slowly but when Harry reached the top, he stopped in front of the door. He didn't know where Dumbledore slept but he was almost certain that it was not in his office. Luckily, Dumbledore saved him from figuring out what to do.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, making Harry jump in surprise, "It's a bit late for a stroll." He was wearing the same, purple robe Harry had seen him wear the last time he had come to the Headmaster in the middle of the night.

"Yes, Professor, but I've had a dream that I think you should know about."

"Perhaps we should step into my office." Dumbledore opened the door and Harry followed him inside. All of the paintings were asleep (one on the right was snoring) and Fawkes was perched with his head under his wing. With a wave of his wand, a bright pink fire lit in the grate. "Pull up a chair, Harry. Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"I had a dream about Voldemort." Harry explained the dream and when he was done, Dumbledore was silent for a moment before speaking.

"So you want Ginny to be put under extra protection."

"If it's possible."

"Ginny is safe while within the castle. I will have someone follow her while she is in Hogsmeade."

"Is that all you can do?"

"I am afraid it is, Harry. I will put the paintings and ghosts on alert, of course, but the castle is very well fortified. Now, I think you'll be needing some sleep."  
            "But…good night, Professor."

"Good night, Harry."

Harry left feeling as though he should be relieved.

~~~~~

The snow crunched beneath his feet as he made his way to his broomstick, which he had transfigured into a tree. He covered his tracks with magical snow before turning his broomstick back to its natural state. As he flew over the winter wonderland that was Hogwarts in December, he fought to keep the cloak closed around him. It was still dark out but he didn't want to risk being caught.

The double doors leading to Hogwarts were heavy and hard to open while holding a broomstick in one nearly frozen hand, but he managed to make it to the Slytherin Common Room without being caught or knocking anything over; the halls were sparsely lit with torches, charmed to light when someone walked by. He stopped at his dormitory room to drop off his broomstick and invisibility cloak before grabbing some homework to do in the common room; the rest of his room mates were still sleeping, their snores making unharmonious music that grated Draco's ears. Settling down in his favorite chair, he began to work. It was unusual for him to leave his homework until the last minute but he had been called away very suddenly the night before and hadn't had time to finish his Charms essay.

The fire burnt low in the Common Room, but he didn't mind the cold; Malfoy Manor wasn't properly heated because his father thought that to show feeling and disturbance by cold was a weakness. Hell any expression of emotion was a weakness.

Draco had finished everything but the conclusion by the time the next person had come down from the dormitories. It was a second year, rubbing his eyes and looking woefully at the small fire.

"Toss another log on," Draco commanded without looking up from his essay. The second year jumped, obviously startled, before doing as he was told. Draco smirked. He was never that malleable when he was in his second year. That was the first year he had seen Ginny Weasley. In Flourish and Blotts, she had stood up to him on Potter's behalf, protecting her little obsession. He remembered her standing there, covered from head to toe in soot from traveling by Floo. Malfoys were above Floo Powder; they had their own, personal Portkey.

He dotted a period at the end of the last sentence and laid the essay out on the table to dry. The sun was climbing in the sky and he went to wake Crabbe and Goyle. They looked like lumps hidden beneath the covers. Prowling the room, he searched for an object to wake them up with. One time he had shoved ice mice up their nostrils and their nose hairs had shivered all morning, causing them to sneeze. That had been one of his more ingenious ideas but nothing seemed to strike his imagination and so he set off one of Dr. Fillibuster's Fabulous Waterproof No-Heat Fireworks, an old trick. They jerked awake at the sound of the first explosion as Draco sat in one of the wooden desk chairs, watching in amusement. It was always worth it to wake Crabbe and Goyle in a highly inventive manner, as they would first panic and then get groggily out of bed, sometimes stumbling stupidly on their slippers (Draco observed with delight that Crabbe had not yet noticed that Draco had charmed his to be fluffy and pink).

They took an unusually long time to get out of the room as they tried to shake off the after-affects of sleep and Draco decided to go down to the Great Hall alone. The tables were half-full by the time he had reached the Great Hall, and he sat down beside Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. After he had piled food onto his plate, he scanned the Gryfindor table for Ginny and found her, sitting and talking with Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Suddenly, the three bent into a whispering huddle and she turned to talk to Longbottom on her right. He smirked at her exclusion, but noticed that she didn't seem to mind. He knew he was envious of the bond those three shared because they trusted each other so much and Draco had never trusted anyone in his life. In fact, Ginny seemed quite popular. A few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws greeted her as they found their seats. He did notice that she didn't pause to talk with anyone for very long, moving from conversation to conversation. As he watched, he noticed the number of eyes that watched her, following her every action. She was going to be missed when disappeared.

And then he focused his attention on Ginny herself. She was attractive, in a red-haired, freckled way. She was the girl next door who had been your best mate for ages, until she grew breasts and you noticed. But she wasn't his type. She was too skinny, too short, too freckled, too well loved, too nice, too _Weasley_ for him to take a liking to her. He saw a black boy from Gryfindor enter, with Finnegan at his side, and kiss her cheek before sitting a few seats down. So she had a boyfriend too. What if she cared for him? He'd not only have to convince her to not like Dean but to be willing to copulate with the Dark Lord. This was going to be even more impossible than he had previously thought.

She rose from the table, saying a smiled farewell. His eggs and bacon now gone from his plate, he felt no need to remain at the Slytherin table. Without saying anything, he rose and followed her.

She hummed as she walked through the empty hallways and he followed, an appropriate distance behind. Hearing him, she looked over her shoulder at him as she walked. Not liking what she saw, she sped up. He didn't want to raise her suspicions and so he turned down the next hallway and returned to the Slytherin Common Room. Crabbe and Goyle had already left and so he picked up his bag and returned to the Great Hall to join them. He arrived right in the middle of the owl post and his barn owl, which had been circling the Slytherin table in search of him, stopped and swooped down. Draco held out his arm for her to land on and walked to the table before untying the scroll from her leg. She flew off, her mission completed, and Draco read his scroll.

_Draco__,_

_Bring the girl to the manor tonight. I will send news of your mother's illness to Dumbledore. You will have the month to convince her._

It was unsigned but Draco knew who it was from. His father had been informed and the Dark Lord was using a faked illness of his mother's to get him out of school for a month. And Ginny would disappear with him. He would have to capture her tonight.

~~~~~

_Meet me tonight in the __Astronomy__Tower__ at __ten o'clock__._

Really, Dean was sweet sometimes, but this was a bit dangerous.

Ginny ran her fingers through her hair. She didn't want to seem too obvious with her make-up and had left with just eye-liner and lip gloss. She knew the lip gloss would come off during their snog but it was Dean's favorite flavor: strawberry.

The Fat Lady was asleep when she slipped out of the Common Room and made her way through the now-dark halls of Hogwarts to the Astronomy Tower. It was infamous as the place where couples went to snog and Ginny and Dean had taken advantage of it many times in the past. After all, Ron would kill Dean if he caught Dean and her snogging, even if Dean was her boyfriend.

It wasn't that she didn't like Dean, she just wasn't head-over-heels in love with him. She wanted to be – he was such a great guy – he was just so…well, he reminded her a bit of Ron: he was interested in quidditch and breasts. Not that she was a hopeless romantic, she just wished that all their conversations didn't revolve around quidditch and then end up in an argument over some muggle sport called football being better or worse than quidditch. And then to appease him she'd let him touch her boobs and then they'd be right where they'd began, with their tongues in each other's mouths.

She sighed as she entered the observation room. It was empty and she took off her cloak and spread it on the ground for them to snog on. Beneath it she wore a lavender silk negligee Dean had bought her for her birthday. He was a very hopeful boy, even if she'd never let him actually have sex with her. There had been some times when she was just so fed up with being a virgin she had almost let him, until her mother's reprimanding voice swam into mind and she gave up on the notion entirely. Besides, she wanted her first time to be with someone special, not just with Dean because she was fed up with being a virgin.

She felt cold without her cloak on but knew Dean would be there soon to warm her up. The negligee barely concealed her body. Really, the taste that boys had…or rather the lack thereof.

Draco thought his heart had stopped beating when she took off her cloak. He stood, hidden under the invisibility cloak a mere meter away from her, feeling frozen to the spot. The thing, though floor length, was practically transparent and she wore nothing but a matching thong beneath it. Blood flooded his nether regions and he struggled to control his breathing. He had never seen so much of a girl before. He wasn't allowed any dirty magazines and to have a sexual relationship while unmarried was looked down upon. Looking away and regaining some of his sanity, he put her under the full body bind.

Stealthily, he walked towards her, listening to her muffled protests. She could hear him drawing closer and closer and he lifted wrapped the cloak around her, hiding her nearly exposed self from view. He lifted her, noting that it was extremely awkward to carry something that heavy in a vertical position for too long and that it fueled his arousal to touch her, knowing she wore so little underneath. Sighing he released from the body bind, with the intention of putting a silencing charm on her but she was too quick and darted out of the way of his spell with a scream. He stunned her as she ran and she toppled over, unable to catch herself from falling. He picked her up again.

"All I'm going to do –" he began, but a scuffle in the hallway interrupted him and he carried her quickly to the wall and covered her with him beneath the cloak. Over his shoulder, he watched Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, enter the room, searching for whoever screamed. Beside him he felt the stun wear off and he caught her legs and arms, pinning them to the wall. Mrs. Norris drew nearer and Ginny's mouth opened; she was going to scream again. In the split second he had to decide what to do and ended up making a very rash decision.

Forcefully he pressed his mouth to hers, filling her mouth with his tongue.

Draco did it because he didn't know how else to stop her with his hands already occupied and Mrs. Norris so close that she would hear any incantation he whispered. He didn't expect her to taste like strawberries, or for her to respond to him. He didn't expect to press his body to hers and have her press back. He didn't expect for her tongue to wind around his, drawing him in and out of her mouth and guiding him in exploration. He didn't expect her to suck on his tongue, making him think of her sucking the place no one but himself had touched in a remotely sexual manner. He didn't expect to loose his grip on her wrists because the kiss had overwhelmed him and he didn't want to stop kissing her and he never wanted to forget how she tasted like strawberries and how her lips were so soft and how her tongue was working magic he'd never experienced from a kiss before.

He also didn't expect it when her hand collided with the side of his face.

He didn't jump back, worried that Mrs. Norris had heard and was coming to investigate, but he couldn't help feeling anger that she'd smacked him and was now trying to push him off her. Mrs. Norris now gone, he put her under the full body bind and carried her to his broomstick, which he had hidden in a corner of the room.

It was awkward carrying her like he was and finding he couldn't conceal her beneath the cloak, he flew over the forest, even though he was afraid of the creatures that lived found within it. He'd drop her off at the manor and fly back before morning when he would officially leave for the manor.

As the wind whipped around him, he wondered if convincing Ginny would involve any more kisses.

~~~~~

Ah, poor Draco and his sexual frustration. Well, that's the first chappie; I hope you found it to be worth your time. Reviews are much appreciated because they make me giggle like the school girl that I am.


	2. be gentle with me

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and company; I am the owner of all that is different in this story.

**be**** gentle with me**

It turned out to be not such a good idea to fly with her so scantily dressed. Propelled by wind, arrows of cold sliced through the invisibility cloak, sweater, and button-up shirt to find their marks on him, chilling him to the core. Draco took off the full body-bind after about ten minutes of flying and Ginny didn't try to throw him off or jump down but clung to him, burying her cold face in his shoulder and greedily taking any heat he provided. She felt like ice against him and by the time they had reached Hogsmeade, his hands were chaffed and freezing, numbly clutching the broom handle. Rapidly, he changed his plans and swerved down to land. As soon as his feet touched the ground she sprinted, her cloak a black flag behind her. Draco envied anyone who saw her front and hit her with a body bind. She fell face forward into the snow. Draco sighed and walked over to pick her up, brushing snow tenderly off of her face. After exchanging his cloak with hers, he propped her invisible form beside his broomstick and turned the corner, setting off for any inn he could find.

He didn't have to walk long before finding a little inn called the _Pheonix__ Nest_.. It was a charming little place if one judged by the outside, two stories high, with snow spread across the thatched roof as if every flake were put purposely in place. A lamp hung at each side of the door way, lighting a sign that hung just above them proclaiming its name to the world. No lights shone through the windows, but as Draco approached the inn, he saw the windows were so covered in soot that it was probably impossible to look out of them. It would suit his purpose. He walked inside. At the front desk an ancient concierge snored slightly, leaning on the desk in front of him, a red welt of a fist print showing that he had been like that for quite some time. Draco rang the small bell and the old man jumped.

"How may I help you?" he asked, after blinking a few times and fumbling with his hand on the desk to retrieve a pair of glasses that looked like they hadn't been washed in several decades. The concierge was old and looked as though he would keel over at any moment. A cane, worn with use, hung on the edge of the worn, wooden counter. Indents of quills pressed letters in the surface, like every guest had decorated it with their name. The room was lit only by a fire in the corner of the room and an ancient, dusty electrical lamp on the desk that sputtered every five minutes to the second.

"I'd like a room."

"May I ask for how long?" The old man brought his glasses down to the edge of his shirt and rubbed furiously at the dirty oil encrusted on the glasses.

"No, I'll pay by the night." Draco saw recognition in the creaking, old man's eyes once the newly cleaned glasses were placed before the man's eyes. With blond hair and eyes as pale as Draco's were, he was always recognized as a Malfoy and treated as one: with respect.

"Yes, right away, Mr. Malfoy." Hastily, the concierge snatched up his cane and hobbled over to a rack with rusting skeleton keys. His fingers fumbled as he grabbed one and he hobbled up the stairs with difficulty, leading Draco up the ill-lit staircase and down the musty hallway. The dark green carpet emitted puffs of dusts over Draco's shoes as he walked. The concierge stopped in front of door number 14.

"Please enjoy your stay," he wheezed, opening the door for Draco and bowing him in. The hand that gave Draco the key was old and withered, the skin draping off the skeleton like curtains. Draco closed the door and listened as the old man's feet steps faded and the creaking of the floorboards stopped. He walked across the room and unlatched the window, the dust coming off on his fingers. He cringed at the creaking of the window's hinges as he opened it and looked down over the sill. It wasn't too far to the ground, but unmarred snow lay beneath the sill (that now had his hand imprinted in its dust). This method of sneaking out now useless, he turned back to the door and opened it. The hinges whined against being used and the floorboards creaked in protest of being walked on. When he reached the front desk, he found the concierge to be sleeping again, for which he was thankful. He snuck noisily out the door and down the picturesque, cobbled street to the place where Ginny and his broomstick were hidden. Still the old man didn't wake up.

When he found them, they weren't where Draco had left them, or at least not exactly. Ginny and the broomstick had fallen down. Snow had slid into her cloak and negligee so that she was covered in cold, wet, snow. He stripped her off the wet cloak, enclosing her in the dry, warm one he had been wearing and picked up his broomstick, mounted it and flew slowly towards the open window of the room so that they would be fully concealed under the wet invisibility cloak. Once there he shoved her rigid body through the window first, wincing when he heard her fall to the floor and climbed through after her, pulling the broomstick after him. 

She lay on the floor, staring up at him with wild eyes. He turned away from her and latched the window. Although her body was rigid, her eyes followed his every movement. He delayed releasing her from the body-bind by putting a silencing spell on the room. He turned back to her, only to be faced yet again by her unwavering gaze. The room was chilled from the open window and he lit a fire in the grate, trying to shake off the unnerved feeling that was encroaching upon him. The fire burned pink – a slightly embarrassing fact that he couldn't change – while he watched her warily from across the room. Carefully, he knelt and spread the invisibility cloak out before the fire to dry. He would need it later tonight and it wouldn't be much help if it froze to him as he was returning.

"_Enervate!_" He spoke the incantation from the other side of the room, keeping as much distance between himself and her nearly naked form. He expected her jump up from where she lay and berate him while calling for help but she instead drew herself into her cloak, coughing and shivering. Draco felt an odd twinge in his chest.

"Come by the fire," he said, walking towards her as if he were approaching a tiger. She looked up at him, as if just remembering he was there, and fainted.

He stopped still, watching her shivering figure on the floor, her arm bent uncomfortably beneath her. Thoughtless, his arms reached for her, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed. It was covered with a patched quilt and her hair seemed to glow in the firelight, despite the darkness. The cloak was slightly damp and he hesitated before removing it from her, revealing the wet, clingy, transparent material of her negligee. Draco frowned. He knew he'd have to remove it as it was wet and cold but he couldn't quite trust himself around a naked girl; he could barely trust himself around a nearly naked girl. Slowly, he pushed the straps off her shoulders and tugged the material down to reveal her breasts, inch by inch. She was so cold. He could feel himself grow excited at the thought of seeing her bare breasts and he stared, captivated, at the material inching downwards. Just a little more and he'd see her nipples. Just a little more… He could see the very tops of the rosy buds that had perked to the material that slid over them. His cheeks felt warm.

CRACK

He didn't notice her wake up or see the hand that stung his cheek in the same place she had already slapped him.

"What do you bloody think you're doing?" She screeched, pulling back from him as he rubbed his cheek. It would most definitely bruise, he thought. When he looked back at her, she had pulled the negligee back up.

"Getting you out of those wet clothes." She moved to slap him again and he caught her wrist. He could see the nipples still perked beneath the filmy material. Catching his glance, she too looked down and shrieked before hurriedly covering her breasts with her hands. Draco didn't think he'd seen anything more erotic. She blushed crimson, and Draco wondered vaguely if she was still cold. 

"You pervert!"

"I don't think there's a boy alive who wouldn't look if you were wearing what you are." The firelight settled into the angry expression of her face.

"Just – "

"Look. You're going to get sick if you keep wearing that. Not only is it unbelievably thin, it's wet."

"I'll do fine, thank you." Draco sighed and got up from the bed. He pulled his sweater over his head and smirked at her outraged gasp.

"_What do you think you're doing?!?_" Draco's fingers nimbly unbuttoned his shirt.

"Well, you have to have something to wear. Here," he held out the shirt to her, "Oh come on. It's not like it will kill you. And you'll more likely catch pneumonia from that thing –" he gestured towards her "– than my shirt."

Grudgingly, Ginny took the shirt, not looking at him or his bare chest. "Turn around." Draco smirked.

"It's not like I'll see anything I haven't already." His smiled deepened as her mouth puckered.

"Just do it." He sighed.

"Fine." He walked over to the fire, the rustlings increasing his erection. Discreetly, he adjusted himself in his pocket to conceal the evidence of his arousal. The pink flames danced, laughing at his predicament. The rustlings stopped and he turned around. Once he did, he knew he shouldn't have.

The shirt was baggy but stopped just below her butt. And it was his shirt. She made his shirt, the shirt he had worn only moments before, look like the sexiest article of clothing he could ever imagine. She walked forward, somewhat self-conscious, with the wet clothes in her hands. He turned back to the fire, watching her out of the corner of his eye as she dragged a chair from the desk to in front of the fire and lay the clothes on the chair. His heartbeat quickened at the sight of her filmy thong. The only thing she was wearing was his shirt. It was the only thing keeping her from being naked.

"I should kill you," she whispered, standing beside him and staring into the pink flames.

"Then why don't you."

"I don't know." He watched as she walked over to the bed. The room was gloomy, a dusty candle on the overused bed stand. A dark painting hung above the bed showing a mountain scene, but the varnish was so aged that one had to nearly press ones nose against it to make out the picture. His eyes focused on the bed. There was only one bed and Ginny sat on the edge, looking up at him expectantly, her hair wet and making the shoulders of the shirt damp.

"Why did you take me?" she asked innocently, her eyes wide and making her look much younger than she was.

"I don't have to answer that." Draco tried his best to keep his voice even.

"I suppose you don't. Are you going to let me go?"

"Why would I? I went through so much to get you out."

"_You_ went through so much!" Draco sighed and walked over to the bed. He picked up his sweater and pulled it over his head. The wool scratched his chest uncomfortably but he ignored it and picked up his invisibility cloak that was still damp. She watched as he went to the door and locked it before turning to her.

"I'll be back in the morning."

"You're not staying the night?" the words escaped her before she had thought about them, surprising both her and Draco.

"I will, if you like…"

"I most certainly do not," she said huffily. She pulled back the covers and settled in them, turning her back to them while listening for the sounds of him leaving. Instead she heard him put down the cloak and walk over to the bedside.. He stood for a very long moment before taking off his sweater and sitting on the side of the bed. Ginny stiffened, preparing to rear at him if he tried to join her in the bed. But the moment turned to minutes, and minutes turned into eternity, and during that time, the instinct to sleep overcame her instinct to fight and she relaxed drowsily. She barely noticed when a corner of the covers was pulled back and another form slipped in beside her. She steadied her breathing as an arm slipped around her middle securely and the form that carried the scent that saturated the shirt she wore snuggled warmly against her. Gently, a pair of lips pressed against the top notch of her spine.

~~~~~

When Ginny awoke the next morning it was to a dark, cold, empty room. An indent was left where her bedfellow had slept last night and when she rolled into it, she found it to be still warm and smelling like her bedfellow. The magical fire had been taken away and she wished it hadn't been, not only did it feel like the cold crept in every crack in the room, but she had like the dark pink flames.

She peeked her eyes over the edge of the covers. A faint light came in through the window, but more light shot through the cracks in the edges of the window, slashing across the room and hitting the opposite wall. To the left of the bed, a pile of ancient newspapers and books lay on the desk along with a withered quill and a half-empty bottle of ink. To her right, beyond the bed stand was the wall that concealed the bathroom. She reached for the candle that had been set on the table a long time ago and it lit at her touch. The room was still dark, but in the weak light she could see the wallpaper, though not faded, was peeling and so much dust had settled in the molded border at the edge of the ceiling that the recesses looked black.

She slipped out of the bed and hurried over to the fireplace, huddling into herself as if it would keep her warmer. The cloak she had left by the fire was now dry and she wrapped herself in it, finding it chilled from the air. Upon the dusty mantle, she found a stack of old parchment and beside the hearth a pile of logs and kindling so she spent the first hour happily busy lighting a fire using the candle on the bed stand.

Until her stomach reminded her that it was lunchtime and she hadn't had breakfast.

Then she abandoned her dirty pursuit and went into the adjacent bathroom. The sink looked like the only thing that had been cleaned or used in the past ten years. She stuck her head under the tap and drunk until her stomach was filled with water. The tub was dubiously clean and so she left the bathroom and wandered over to the desk. Sweeping dust  off of the book covers, Ginny sifted through the newspaper, finally settling on a positively ancient novel that turned out to be as dry as its pages. Still shivering, despite her proximity to the fire, she changed out of Draco's shirt back into her thong and negligee, wearing the shirt over it for warmth and the cloak over that before she crept back into the bed that was now cold. She knew she looked ridiculous but who did she have to impress?

Memories from the past night flittered across her mind as she settled down to nap from sheer boredom. Draco Malfoy…she had hated him ever since she could remember…she had been kidnapped by him…she had fought back against him…she had been bullied and teased by him…she had stood up to him…she had kissed him…she had been closer to him than she had ever wanted to be…she had slept with him for an entire night…

It hadn't ever been like that with Dean or Micheal.

Maybe she wasn't scared because it was a relief to be away from it all, to be away from them all. They thought they knew her down to the smallest molecule. They thought they knew her better than she knew herself. And Draco hadn't tried to judge her yet. He hadn't tried to impose his opinions on her life. All he had done was taken her away from it all. That wasn't so bad. But she knew she could have gotten away if she had fought harder. Why hadn't she fought harder?

~~~~~

            "Have you seen Ginny?" Harry asked Hermione once she had sat down to breakfast in the Great Hall, dropping her overloaded book bag on the ground.

            "No, I assume she's still sleeping," she said, piling eggs onto her plate before leaning closer and adding in a lower voice, "she and Dean had a late night last night so I think we should let them sleep in."

            "No they didn't," Harry said, slightly startled. "Dean didn't leave last night."

            "I found a note from Dean about it. Besides, you don't know that," she challenged.

            "I'm pretty sure I do."

            "Is there room for me in this conversation," Ron said, sitting beside Hermione.

            "Oh, we – we were just talking about…about…" Hermione stuttered.

            "About Professor Trewlaney. I was telling her how much better it was without her," Harry finished. Ron squinted at Hermione critically, as if he could make her spill the truth by seeing her better, before accepting her answer and digging into her food.

            "I'll check up on Ginny after breakfast," Hermione whispered once Ron was busy asking one of the Chasers if they knew when the next Quidditch practice was.

~~~~~

Dumbledore stared knowingly over his half-moon glasses as he watched Draco and Lucius Malfoy depart from Hogwarts in one of the horseless carriages, that chilly afternoon. He could tell Draco was embroiled in something he did not want to be a part of. But he didn't know what and he didn't know how to help Draco. Draco was like an iceberg; he was completely untouchable and if you did touch him, you went down.

Somehow, he had felt it necessary to let Ginny be kidnapped. He wasn't a diviner, but on occasion he could pick up certain trends and one of them was between the Malfoy males and the Weasley women, or the women that would become the Weasley women. If any force came in between them, altering the path that joined the families in hate, then their future would take a rocky, unpredictable course. It was best to let the smooth path preside and wait for the outcome without outer intervention. He didn't know how he knew that Ginny would be kidnapped by Draco, but the hatred was founded in an ancient magic that reverberated in the air around him. Ever since being bound to Hogwarts, he had felt any ancient force. He had become part of an ancient force and thus was the receptor of others.

Back in the carriage, Draco pressed his forehead to the cool glass.

"Sit up properly," his father barked and Draco commanded obediently. He had been trained long ago to be an obedient puppy. "This will leave you off at the platform. I expect you to get the girl and take her to the manor. I will send the carriage at around 7 tonight. Be ready."

Without so much as a farewell, his father apparated with a crack, startling the thestral into speeding down the drive and to the station to Hogwarts. By the time they had reached the platform, the thestral had calmed and Draco hurried out of the carriage, dragging his trunk behind him. He made his way to the inn, the residents of Hogsmeade taking no notice in him. The innkeeper was not at his post and so Draco slipped in unnoticed, hovering his trunk up the stairs and to his room.

Ginny was sleeping when he entered the room; he thought it amazing that she didn't wake up to the creaking of the door. She looked positively angelic, her even breathing raising and lowering the bedspread. A lock of hair fell across her face and his fingers itched to tuck it back, to have some contact with her. Instead he turned away and rolled the trunk to the foot of the bed and opened. He had stolen a set of Hogwarts robes from the laundry and some food from the kitchens and he unpacked these, setting the robes at the foot of the bed and the food on the nightstand.

He noticed then that the clothes that had been spread on the chair in front of the fire had gone and a non-magical fire cracked in the hearth. The flames that licked the logs were becoming smaller and smaller and he tossed another log onto the fire before sitting down to watch her gentle breathing.


	3. dont scare me like that

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and company; I am the owner of all that is different in this story.****

**don't**** scare me like that**

Gently, the slivers of light crept along the wall, fading as they went until the only light was that of the fire. Darkness had fallen, enshrouding Hogmeade in its hostile cloak that hid the deeds not mentioned in the day's plain face. Ginny stirred in her bed, noting the warmth of the room. Opening her eyes, she saw a number of containers sitting on the nightstand and then closed them unconcerned. She felt very warm, like she had a radiator within her that kept her securely so. Lazily she rolled onto her back and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, jumping when she opened them again.

Draco sat slumped over in his chair, sleeping. He was mostly turned towards her, the fire warming the color of his pale skin and hair. He looked like an angel lit by the fires of hell. But it wasn't his figure that caught her eye. It was the wand that had dropped from his fingers and lay gleaming on the floor.

Stealthily, she slipped from out of the tangled blankets and crept over to the wand, holding her breath with every step. He slept silently on. Slowly, she reached for the wand which lay just below the relaxed fingertips of his hanging arm. Using a finger, she knocked the wand a safer distance away from Draco's hand, freezing and wincing at the sound of it rolling. It stopped near the door and she picked it up and tried an _Alohamora_ on the door. She felt the magic work through her, and was pleased the wand worked for her. She was less pleased when she tried the door: it was still locked. She tried the spell again, and was met by the same effect. Draco must have put a charm on the door.

She looked around the room for some other escape route, her eyes settling on the window. Of course! Why hadn't she thought of the window before? She jumped out of bed and rushed to the window. It was locked. She tried the spell. Draco was too stupid to remember to charm the window. She pushed open the window, for once appreciating the cold that came in. It opened to a thin, deserted alley way with a large amount of fluffy, unmarred snow at the bottom. She was only on the second floor…it wouldn't be too far to jump. Fueled by adrenaline, she stuck one leg out of the window, and then the other before shimmying down and clinging to the frame. Ginny closed her eyes and let go, holding her breath so she wouldn't scream. She landed safely, if not awkwardly, croaching down to absorb the shock. Around her, the snow clung like souls in the river Styx, but she shrugged it off as she took her first few steps of freedom. The snow seemed to have never been shoveled during that winter and she waded, waist high in the snow, her feet growing progressively numb, her clothing wetting and becoming a heavy barrier from her destination. Still she progressed, step after frozen step, her legs tingling with numb. Finally Ginny reached the entrance to the alley, only to collapse on the doorstep of the _Pheonix__ Nest_.

~~~~~

Draco woke from an uncomfortable chill. His body groaned with the discomfort of sleeping in a chair and he stretched. Immediately afterwards he wished he hadn't; a gust of wind blew in to chill him to the bone. But rooms weren't supposed to have gusts of wind. And then he noticed the chill in the air and the open window. He glanced at the bed. Although the bedcovers were in complete disarray, the bed was empty. Ginny wasn't there.

Bloody Hell, she had escaped right under his nose.

He tore across the room to the window. Below, a path just big enough for Ginny had been plowed through the snow.

How could he be such an _idiot_?

Grabbing his broom, he flew out of the window, following her trail. In five minutes, he flew the path that had taken Ginny a half hour and stopped at the end, uncertain of where to go next. She had made it all the way out of the drift and was now on her way, probably back to Hogwarts where she would report him and he would be expelled. Oh Merlin.

At the door, the wheezy old concierge appeared, a pipe hanging from the edge of his mouth and worn leather slippers on his feet.

"Oy, ye ken anything about a red-haired lass?"

"Yes," Draco said, and hastily dismounted, "Can you tell me where she is?"

"Aye," he said, motioning for Draco to follow him. This didn't appear to be the same man who had given him his room the night before.

"Ye keeping a room here?"

"Yes," Draco replied as the new old man led him through the hallway on the right of the front desk. Apparently these were the living quarters for the two…whoever they were.

"Ye'll be the Malfoy kid who turned up near midnight. Nearly gave Tommy an attack when he saw ye. Don't worry, no one else will ken ye're here. And the redhead showed up on the doorstep half frozen. Seems she waded through the snow to get here. But I won't ask ye no questions." The old man walked without the assistance of a cane, but his speed was very slow as he kept shuffling his feet. Draco couldn't see any tobacco in the pipe and wondered why the man carried it with him. He stopped at a door and turned abruptly to open it. The room was well lit, with lamps and a fire. Blazing against the dark, upholstered chair, Draco could see Ginny's head peeping over a bundle of blankets. He breathed relief as he approached her.

Ginny was sleeping when he entered the room. The firelight lit streaks the color of a pheonix's tail feather in her slightly damp tendrils of hair and made her skin glow a violent white in contrast.. The blanket covered her completely; she seemed to clutch them to herself in her sleep. A line had formed between her eyebrows as they knit in thoughtful sleep and he felt compelled to smooth the now creased brow. Instead he turned back to the old man.

"How bad is she?"

"Near half-frozen when I found her, now I 'spect she's thawed a bit but she's still as bad health-wise. I reckon she'll need a least two days afore she walks again, and a fulls week at the least to recover." Draco turned back to Ginny's sleeping form. Shadows of blue hinted on her deathly pale skin.

"Sir-"

"-Jimmy," the man, now Jimmy, interrupted, holding out his hand for a shake. Draco was reminded of a time when he had done the very same to Harry Potter and had been rejected. Failing to fall in Potter's footsteps, Draco took Jimmy's wrinkled hand in a firmly friendly handshake.

"Could I use your fire?"

"Be my guest," Jimmy said, waving Draco to the pot of Floo Powder. Draco took a handful and tossed it into the fire before speaking "_Malfoy__ Manor!_" into the flames and sticking his head in. His head sped rapidly through the fireplaces to appear in the one in Malfoy Manor. It was located in his father's study and he found his father deeply immersed in his work. Draco cringed at the thought of disturbing him but did it anyways.

"Father," Lucius Malfoy jerked his head up in irritation. Draco hardened his expression, waiting for his father's reaction.

"What do you want?" his father snarled, whirling around in the chair to face the fire.

"Ginny's sick."

"Your mother can have a look at her when she gets here."

"She's too sick to go to Malfoy Manor."

"What could she possibly have that prevents her from traveling?"

"Hypothermia." Lucius cursed. It was one of the few maladies that could only be assisted but not cured by magic. And any exposure to cold could do unlimited damage. Warming potions were only temporary relief from the chill but there was no remedy for the immune system's fragility.

"How could she have possibly…"

"She opened a window," Draco lied, "She wanted to hinder me and she knew that hypothermia would prevent her from being moved." Lucius sat silently, his eyes ablaze with anger.

"I'll give you one week to cure her," he grit out finally.

"Thank you, father," Draco said before popping back to the inn.

Jimmy wasn't in the room when Draco returned and Ginny had awakened and was staring at him warily over the top of the blankets, shivering. Draco sighed.

"I'm not going to hurt you." She kept on shivering. Her lower lip was quivering. He had the strangest urge to still it with his finger.

"Where am I?" Her voice was a gentle whisper as fragile as an icicle.

"In one of the lower rooms of the _Pheonix__ Nest_," Jimmy replied for Draco as he reentered the room, carrying a fresh stack of blankets. "Ye'll have a change of clothes for the lass, of course."

"Yes," Draco said, his mind more preoccupied with Ginny's state of dress beneath the blankets, "they're upstairs at the foot of the bed."

"I'll go get them," Jimmy said, taking the hint. Draco waited for him to leave before exploding.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he asked quietly, pressing the rage from his voice.

"Escaping," she replied, her chin tilted up in defiance. She was very pale, with dark purple circles under her eyes that stood out like a cloud that had drifted to cover the moon.

"Well you nearly killed yourself and as you can see, you haven't escaped."

"At least I know where I am: in the _Pheonix__ Nest._"

"For all you know, the _Pheonix__ Nest _could be anywhere, from Bulgaria to Beijing."

"I happen to know it's in Hogsmeade." She lay her head back, as if to fall asleep again, before opening her eyes. "Who was that man?"

"No one you are to speak to."

"So he's not one of your henchmen. Good."

"If you're planning on getting him to help you escape, you're a fool."

"You can't stop me."

"But I can prevent you from being alone with him." She squinted her eyes and through the slits he could see her mind churning, to no produced effect. She sighed and closed her eyes once more and Draco turned to the fire. A fire's crackling could be merry or dismal or even described as ferocious. It seemed like it fit every emotion that Draco could name, and every one he felt.

Jimmy returned, the containers of food tucked under one arm and the robes in the other arm. He walked over to Ginny, who had opened her eyes to watch him approach.

"He're ye go, lass. It's best ye'll get out of those wet clothes before your chill worsens." She snaked out a pale, thin arm and grasped the bundle of cloth, her thin fingers clutching the fabric. Jimmy turned to Draco, "And I expect ye'll be helping the lass as ye're acquainted and it isn't right for strangers to see other strangers without clothing."

"But-" Draco began to protest, but it was too late because Jimmy had shut the door. It was odd; the old man appeared slow and docile but moved with alarming dexterity when he wanted to.

"Don't bother," Ginny huffed, attempting to extricate herself from the blankets, "I can do it myself." After her attempt, she realized she couldn't. She could move her legs and lower torso, but only slightly and with great effort and pain. Draco turned back to the fire, quelling the urge to watch, and trying to ignore the harsh breaths of her exertion. Soon, the sounds of movement stopped and he turned to face her.

The material was wet, making it virtually transparent all over. Her negligee clung to her legs and his shirt, _his shirt_, clung to her, allowing him to see the shadows of her nipples beneath the material. She stared defiantly at him, ready to deflect any scrutinizing he would dare to commit. Instead he walked over to her and kneeled, reaching for the buttons of the shirt. She didn't stop him, and Draco didn't look her face throughout undressing her. On top of the stack of fresh blankets, there lay a towel, which Draco picked up and used to dry her. She didn't assist him in any way, nor did she hinder him as he dried her. His heart quicken as he dragged the towel over her thighs and up her stomach to her breasts. He had never seen an entirely naked girl before and knew he shouldn't stare at the image of feminine perfection before him. But he couldn't help glancing every once in a while.

Dressing was more cumbersome than drying; although she helped him more readily, lifting up her arms so he could get them in the sleeves and such. After the wet blankets were exchanged for clean ones, he turned to the wet garments. The cloak and shirt he spread in front of the fire, but he didn't know quite what to do with the negligee and thong; they were quite inappropriate and he was almost certain that Ginny would be embarrassed if Jimmy saw them. The negligee he spread in front of the fire but the thong he tucked discretely into his pocket when Ginny wasn't looking.

By the time he had finished, Ginny had closed her eyes and was trying to go back to sleep, wrapped in the fresh blankets. Draco opened the door and looked down the homely hallway for Jimmy. He found him arguing with the old concierge, who he supposed was Tommy.

"You cannot allow them to stay down here! I've told you, time and time again, not to get involved with the personal lives of our customers!"

"I ken that, but I also ken that the girl is sick and that'll be the warmest room in the inn!"

"It's not your place-" Tommy broke off, catching sight of Draco.

"I'll pay extra for the room, if it wouldn't be a problem to you. And I'd like to thank you, Jimmy for taking such good care of…of her."

"Twasn't any problem." Jimmy smiled widely and gloatingly. Tommy sulked silently but nodded his head. "If ye'll need anything…"

"I'll tell you," Draco finished. "Actually, if you could move my trunk down here and have a bed conjured?"

"I'll get the trunk," Jimmy said quickly, shuffling away. Tommy looked severely uncomfortable.

"Um…there's a problem…you see, my brother – my twin – and I…we can't conjure a bed…we're Squibs you see…" Draco was taken aback. Usually squibs stopped living in the magical community. Filch was the only one he had known to actually hold a job in the magical community before Jimmy and Tommy.

"That's alright. I'll just do it myself," Draco said quickly and retreated into the room, leaving a red-faced Tommy in the hallway.

Once within the room Draco levitated Ginny's chair ("PUT ME DOWN!") and several other objects to the sides of the room. Whenever he conjured a bed, it was big, usually a king size with long, dark velvet, draping bed hangings and a full canopy. Draco liked sleeping somewhere that was completely closed off; out in the open anyone could get to him.

He conjured the bed and as usual, it was monstrous, taking a good portion of his energy to keep the magic flowing to construct it. The drapes and covers were dark purple, the color of importance in Ancient Rome, the mattress stuffed with down feathers. Ginny's eyes widened when she saw its grandeur. Draco wondered whether she thought it exorbitant.

            He walked over to her (she was still gaping) and gently picked her up. The blankets that wrapped around her unwound as he carried her over to the bed. She felt small, smaller than she had felt the night before, and more helpless in the way she clung to his neck with her arms. He pulled the covers back and set her down, tucking her legs in for her.

            It was weird being nice to someone without having any real reason to do it. He had one logical reason (that the Dark Lord would crucify him if Ginny was damaged in any way by her illness) and one illogical reason (which he wasn't quite sure of) to be nice. It was probably the logical reason.

            She slithered down into the comfort of the bed and Draco left, feeling himself no longer needed. He was on his way back to his own room when he discovered he was wrong.

            "She hasn't eaten all day –" Tommy said, shoving a spoon and a bowl of chicken broth forcefully into Draco's hands (it was amazing that the broth didn't spill) and steering him forcefully back to the room. Jimmy followed, dragging Draco's trunk behind him.

            "– and ye'll need to stay the night –" Jimmy continued, panting slightly from the exertion of moving the trunk.

            "– because she'll need your body heat –"

            "– and she'll appreciate the company." By now Draco was facing the door which Tommy was opening before he was shoved unceremoniously through it. Jimmy, in a another burst of youth, shoved the trunk in after Draco, catching him in the knees before clunking to the ground that made Ginny jump, sit up, and whirl around. Draco, recovering from his fall, held out the bowl of soup in front of him sheepishly.

            "Dinner?"

            "I'm not hungry." She started to slide slowly back down.

            "You haven't eaten all day," Draco said, approaching the bed.

            "Then let me revise my statement. I'm not hungry _enough_ to eat anything you've poisoned."

            "Why would I poison you? If I wanted you dead, then I would have put you back out in the cold with your wet clothes."

            "I –" she started, but finding nothing to fill the sentence she stopped. "Fine." She reached for the bowl and he handed her the bowl and spoon. Her hand shook violently as she raised it, spilling the contents of the spoon back into the bowl.

            "Here, let me," Draco said, uncertainly exasperated after she had repeated the action 3 times.

She leaned her head back so it rested on the headboard, her eyes closed but her mouth open in acceptance. Tentatively, he lifted a spoonful of broth to her mouth. Her lips closed over the spoon and he tugged it free, mesmerized by her lips clinging to the spoon. He repeated his action and she repeated hers. She had opened her eyes and stared into his as he fed her. Little by little, the soup disappeared from the bowl and he tore his eyes away from hers to put the bowl on the nightstand. He wondered if she knew how much she affected him. She must, otherwise she wouldn't do it. 

He leaned over her, reaching around her with both arms. One found its place at her waist and pulled her arching back towards him while other pressed the pillow down to its normal position so that she could lie and sleep.

"Thanks," she whispered, the sound just barely audible to the ear into which she spoke.

"You're welcome," he whispered back, the words coming out rumbled in his throat.

She leaned back to sleep and he tucked her in like his mother used to when he was very young and she still had emotion.

After he was certain that the curtains around the bed were closed, he undressed for bed, settling for silk pajamas over his preference of his birthday suit. She was already asleep when he joined her in the artificial darkness caused by the curtains, fitting against her and hugging her as if she were a long treasured teddy bear.

~~~~~

Thanks everyone who reviewed. I'm sorry about the slow updates but school is slowing the pace of my writing and while fan fiction _is important, so are my grades._


	4. you see me standing there

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognize? Good, that's mine.

**you**** see me standing there**

"Well, I've asked everyone I could. Not even Dean knows where she's gone." Hermione's hair was curling out of her bun, her cheeks flushed from running out to the Quidditch Pitch to meet Harry after practice.

"Should we tell Dumbledore?" Harry asked, unbuckling his wrist guards.

"I think the more important question is should we tell Ron." Harry's fingers slipped on the buckle before he undid it.

"Tell me what?" Ron asked. Hermione jumped visibly.

"N-nothing."

"Tell me what?" he repeated, looking from Harry to Hermione with an mixed expression of apprehension and curiosity. Hermione tucked a curl behind her ear and Ron followed the motion.

"We can't find Ginny," Harry said, breaking the uncomfortable staring contest that had begun between Ron and Hermione.

"She's probably just with Dean."

"We've already asked him…" Hermione began hesitantly. Ron looked at her expectantly before he realized her implication.

"She…she can't have gone far. She can't have left the castle."

"We think she may have," Harry said, gathering up his Quidditch guards and beginning to walk back to the castle. Ron and Hermione followed.

"But why?"

"We don't know. Maybe she left on her own –"

"– She'd never –"

"– or she might have been taken."

"But…how?"

"Well – Ron you've got to promise me you won't blow up at me or Ginny when we find her, no I mean _really_ promise…ok – she and Dean have met a few times in the Astronomy Tower – Ron, you _promised – and someone sent a note, in Dean's handwriting, telling her to meet him last night. And she hasn't come back yet," Hermione explained._

"And there's more," Harry said.

"There is?" He explained his dream and his confrontation with Dumbledore.

"Then we should definitely tell Dumbledore. Whoever kidnapped Ginny goes to school here – he's probably a Slytherin – and he works fast. Who knows what other things they've done since."

"Ron, be reasonable. First of all, it might not be a he, and second, it might not be a Slytherin."

"But you think it is, don't you?" Ron countered.

"Well…yes…"

"And the voice I heard was definitely male."

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, "If you heard the voice again, do you think you could tell who it was?"

"Maybe, most likely yes but then again it was a dream and we don't really know how reliable this connection between Voldemort and me is."

"You say you never saw who it was V-Voldemort was speaking to?"

"Yes."

"Pity," Ron said, a bit too aggressively to be wistful, "but what should we do?"

"Like you said Ron," Hermione said, heaving the door to the main entrance open, "we talk to Dumbledore."

~~~~~

It was dark when she awoke. It frightened Ginny, it was _never dark when she awoke. And then there was the slight breeze on her neck and the warm pillow behind her and the arm draped across her middle. The arm draped across her middle! Ginny jumped, startling the person that slept behind her._

"Wh–" she croaked, attempting to speak but find her throat as dry as an Egyptian desert. Draco lay still, looking up at her with innocently clear, gray eyes. He blinked twice before rubbing the sleep out of them.

"Good morning."

"It most certainly is not," she replied moving away from him and into the unwarmed portion of the bed. "What do you bloody think you're doing?"

"Well I _was_ sleeping," Draco yawned, "and I think I'll continue to –" he rolled over "– and if you know what's best for you, you will too."

"Not with you in the bed," she said defiantly, staring daggers into his back. But it didn't do any good because he was already asleep. She moved to get out of the bed and felt his hand clamp around her wrist.

"Sleep," he commanded, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"No." He rolled over and in the darkness his eyes glowed eerily. She wondered if he was part veela.

"Fine then, you've got me awake. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I…" her thoughts trailed off with her voice. A crack of light slit through the curtains and hit his face, slashing a section into view. He turned his face more into the down pillow, away from the light and stretched out an arm to pull the curtains together and they were once more consumed in darkness.

"Sleep," he breathed gently into her ear. She kept still although she had no intention of sleeping and felt his body slacken slowly around her. Carefully, she extricated herself from his arms and inched over to the edge of the bed. The arms came back to her and he inched closer, resting his head in the crook of her neck. It was funny feeling his head there. His hair felt as soft and fine as silk threads and his breaths tickled the hollow between her breasts. She nearly laughed out loud at what he would say when he found himself this close to her. Or maybe that was what he would have said a year ago.

~~~~~

Dumbledore sat silently after the three had explained the situation, gnawing on a knuckle while he thought. They had never seen him do it before, but then again they had never seen him do any hard thinking. Dumbledore seemed to just be Dumbledore, with a mind that worked beyond the speed of light and a solution for every problem.

"As you can see, I was mistaken when I assumed Ginny was safe in the castle." He paused again and his knuckle returned to his mouth. Dumbledore's face was impassive, but Harry thought he could see the clicking and turning of his brain behind his eyes.

"We should go after her," Ron said.

"Yes, the problem is we don't know where she is. I assume she is wherever Voldemort is, but we don't know where Voldemort is. I'll ask the staff to search Hogsmeade, but I can not let any of you wander beyond the boundaries of Hogwarts. It's already dangerous for you walking these fortified corridors, but to let you out would be putting your lives at risk. Now, if you'll excuse me." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his knuckle once again in his mouth and they left quietly. Over his shoulder, Harry looked back at the great wizard who was now nearing the end of his life. He knew Dumbledore could feel it; there was a slight weariness in his presence like he had been denied sleep for a long time and caffeine could no longer keep him awake. Harry wished he could help, maybe defeat Voldemort more quickly and ease Dumbledore's troubled mind, but Voldemort would seek him out in his own time. Harry only hoped it was before it was too late.

"Now I know how Sirius felt," Ron muttered, breaking Harry's thoughts as they went down the spiraling staircase.

"Something's bugging Dumbledore, I wish I knew what," Harry said, his voice sounding oddly stretched.

"It wouldn't do any good to know, we probably wouldn't be able to help if we did. And don't even think about going into Hogsmeade, you two, if you're right, Harry, that something is bothering him, we don't need him worrying about us as well. We might as well get some homework done," she finished cheerily, shifting the bag on her back and heading off to the library. For lack of anything better to do, Ron and Harry followed. Hermione chose a table near the window and began working immediately. Ron sat nearby, but Harry wandered off, meandering through the stacks of books until his nostrils were full of the smell of old tomes and ancient ink before settling to do homework as well. In the setting sun, the Slytherin Quidditch practiced over the pitch; he had an almost perfect view. Distracted by the bane of a witch's existence, he followed the swerving and diving green specks. Suddenly the all slowed and stopped in midair, and then he noticed they were a player short. Not only were they a player short, but the tall, thin, blond that usually stood out among his teammates wasn't there to stand out.

"Ron! Hermione!" he whispered quietly, "Look at the Quidditch pitch!"

"The Slytherins are practicing," Hermione said blandly, glancing up briefly out of the window.

"No, look closely."

"They're a player short," Ron said, "but why's that important."

"_Malfoy's__ not there," Hermione exclaimed._

"D'you think…"

"Come to think of it…the Death Eater in my dream _did_ sound like Malfoy." They all looked at each other then bolted from the library, leaving behind their books and bags and a chastising Madame Pince.

~~~~~

            "Are ye blind? Can't ye _see it?" Jimmy argued, stirring the oatmeal as Tommy made coffee._

            "Of course I can see it. I just don't think we should push them. They're only children after all."

            "Don't ye remember what it was like to be a teenager? Sure, it was a long time ago, but how could ye forget the awkwardness and the fear? They're both scared to death o' each other yet you can see the longing in their eyes."

            "But they're only children…"

            "How can ye say the boy's just a child when we ken better than most what he's gone through. What he's going through? I wasn't going to bring it up but when Reb–"

            "Don't! I cannae let you!" Tommy yelled, dropping the container of coffee on the ground, his repressed accent coming back forcefully. Luckily, the container was sealed.

            "Then don't make me remind ye."

~~~~~

"Professor," Harry said, panting as he burst into Professor Dumbledore's office, "It's –"

"Haven't you heard of knocking, Mr. Potter?" The icily polite voice of Severus Snape spoke, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Er…sorry, Professor."

"Maybe it would be best if you waited outside," Professor Snape reminded coolly.

"But this is important!" Ron argued.

"We'll wait outside, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said forcefully, backing out and closing the door behind him. 

"Why didn't you tell Snape to go pull the stick he has up his arse out!?!" Ron asked furiously.

"Ron, do you really want the entire school to know that Malfoy has kidnapped Ginny? Not only will everyone be petrified that they'll be kidnapped too, but you might bring your family into danger because you're saying Malfoy's a Death Eater," Harry said quietly, "Plus we _still _don't know whose side Snape's on."

"Harry, Ron, how many times do I have to tell you: Dumbledore trusts Snape."

"Without any reason," Ron muttered. Hermione gave him a glowering look before pulling a book from her overstuffed book bag and beginning to read. The three of them waited impatiently in the ill lit hallway; Ron and Harry discussed Quidditch. A draft came through the skylight that provided the sole lighting a blew Hermione's pages so that she had to keep her hand clamped on the edge as she shivered. A few minutes passed before Snape came out, and gave them a calculating glance.

"You may now go in."

They walked in quietly (Hermione last because she had to put away her book), their footsteps covered by the gentle snores of the headmasters portraits.

"Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?" Dumbledore said, feeding Fawkes birdseed from his hand. Ron and Hermione looked at Harry, pressuring him to speak.

"We know who kidnapped Ginny."

"Oh?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Who?"

"Draco Malfoy," Ron supplied bitterly.

"He wasn't at Slytherin Quidditch practice. He's not here anymore, is he, Professor?"

"No, he is not. His family requested him to return home urgently," Dumbledore explained, partially amused.

"And the voice in my dream. I think it was Malfoy." Dumbledore stroked Fawkes' feathers, lost in thought.

"It does seem to follow…you want me to do something?" It wasn't a really question, it was a statement.

"Why wouldn't we do anything?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"If you were Draco, what would you do?"

"Take Ginny to Voldemort as soon as I could," Harry replied.

"Precisely. We wouldn't be able to get to her. They'll have her hidden away where he is, and we have know idea where Voldemort is."

"Couldn't we investigate the manor?" Ron asked.

"Not without a warrant and a good reason," Hermione responded, catching on to Dumbledore's logic. "But Draco left today. He would have headed straight for the manor to throw off the trail and then to wherever Voldemort is hiding. And if he did, couldn't we have lookouts stationed around the manor."

"The Order already does," Ron said, "Bill talked about it."

"And I've already spoken to them. Lucius Malfoy returned to the manor alone, but no one else has entered." Dumbledore sat in his chair and folded his hands on the table

"So they must know we're watching," Ron said.

"If they did, wouldn't Malfoy had gone in with his dad? By not going in, we know he's not there –" Harry began.

"– and could be anywhere else," Hermione finished.

"But the lookouts don't catch everything. The manor is big, and the circumference of the property too large to properly monitor. Something could get in and out without us noticing," Dumbledore introduced.

"And if they knew we were watching, Malfoy's entrance would have been obvious," Harry deduced.

"Which proves they don't know where watching," Ron said, "But that means we should check around Hogwarts. He might still be here."

"He might," Hermione agreed, "but he and Ginny could be anywhere by now. They wouldn't have Flooed – that can be checked – or have used and illegal portkey but by flying or the train…they could be anywhere."

"But that doesn't give us less reason to look. So what if the odds are against us; the possibility's worth the effort." Ron was almost pleading now, his worry evident in his posture.

"None of the staff I sent looking have reported anything out of the ordinary," Dumbledore informed Ron gently.

"There really isn't anything we can do?" Ron looked so pitiful, Hermione felt the urge to go over to him and hug him gently, rocking him and whispering to him until he fell asleep. The urge was so strong, Hermione was surprised. She didn't think siblings felt so strongly about each other, and Harry and Ron were the closest things to brothers she'd ever had.

"I'm afraid all we can do is wait." They said their goodbyes and thanks and left Dumbledore's office solemnly. Ron looked down as they walked back to Gryfindor Tower, speaking only when spoken to. The Common Room was noisy, so Harry suggested they go to the boys' dormitories for some privacy and Harry and Hermione sat nearby as Ron brooded, staring blankly at his blank piece of parchment. Making sure Harry was busy, Hermione reached her hand out, inching slowly towards Ron's before taking it within her own. He looked up at her and she squeezed his hand, giving him a small smile which he returned. He squeezed back and her stomach gave an alarming flip flop before she gently tugged her hand away to return to her homework. She almost wished she hadn't.

~~~~~

They sat in front of the fire, Ginny bundle up (due to Draco's insistance) in five blankets, sipping the soup and eating the grilled cheese the Jimmy had given them. Draco had tried to pay extra for the room and food, but Jimmy wouldn't accept it and smiled toothily at him as he shoved the money bag away.

"My silence isn't bought, lad, it's given," he had said. Luckily for Draco's conscience, Tommy took the money behind his brother's back.

Draco looked at her, a pair of thin arms poking out from beneath the swirl of blankets that covered her that fed a head the seemed to float, a blanket of a rather nasty mustard color wrapped around her neck like a thick, flannel scarf. She always took small bites, he noticed, swilling the food around in her mouth like she was sampling a fine wine before swallowing. She looked back at him and stopped, mid-chew, to give him a small smile. He looked away.

"Why did you bring me here?" Draco stared into the fire intently, wondering if he should answer and if he did, what would he say? Somehow, the truth felt like a bad idea. The flames licked the logs greedily, cracking every once in a while when it gnawed a particularly wet piece of wood. A few hours ago, a few fire lizards had crept into the fire through a crack in the hearth. The place must have an infestation.

"Why did you bring me here?" she repeated, jarring his thoughts.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," he said blandly, into his bowl. Ginny laughed.

"Seriously."

"You want a straightforward answer?"

"Yes." She leaned over precariously and placed her bowl and spoon on the floor before her.

"I can't tell you." He stood up, walked over to the bowl, picked it up, and walked out of the room.

"Some answer," Ginny muttered.

~~~~~

"Hold on! Couldn't we–"

"I can't believe it, Dumbledore won't let us do anything!" Ron interpolated, cutting Harry off.

"Oh, stop it, Ron, you've been sulking all day," Hermione snapped as they walked back up to Gryfindor Tower after dinner.

"You'd sulk too if you're sister was kidnapped and you can't do a bloody thing about it."

"Thank goodness I don't have a sister then," she huffed and strode ahead, leaving Ron and Harry behind.

"Hermione…" Ron hurried to catch up with her.

"Look, you two, if you'd stop fighting for just one minute!" Ron and Hermione froze and swiveled to look at Harry. He hadn't realized how loudly he'd said that.

"What I was _trying_ to say was maybe we could look for Ginny ourselves." They stared at him and he continued. "We could sneak out to Hogsmeade next weekend and–"

"Harry, are you sure it's safe for you to be going out into Hogsmeade?"

"I'll be _fine_, Hermione, I'm bloody sixteen years old. I can take care of my self."

"All the same, Harry–"

"–not you too, Ron–"

"–maybe you should go under the cloak," Ron finished. Hermione looked like she wanted to disagree but she kept her mouth shut. Harry looked at Ron, then Hermione, then Ron again, then Hermione.

"Oh all right, I'll go under the cloak," he mumbled.

~~~~~

Sorry about all the slow updates, and thanks SOOOOO much for reviewing. It's you guys who keep me motivated, you know.


	5. that was close

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, friends, and enemies belong to  JK Rowling and Warner Brothers and blahdy blahdy blahdy. Tommy and Jimmy are mine, I guess, although I'd be perfectly willing to trade them for Draco…

**that**** was close**

The night was cold; the air nipped at Harry's ears and sliced through the warmth of the cloak. A faint mist rose steadily from Ron and Hermione's mouth, so white Harry often confused it with the snow as they trudged stiffly down the icy streets of Hogsmeade. They had hidden until the sun set in the cave Sirius had used as a refuge in their fourth year, warmed by one of Hermione's magical blue fires and Harry wished he had bottled some of the flame to warm his hands that were bundles up by the hems of his too large sweater and stuffed into his pockets. It was a wonder that no one heard his teeth chattering in the iced silence. Numbly, they all stepped into the Hog's Head.

It was barely warmer inside the pub, and so dark that they could barely see the counter where several drunk men sat muttering to themselves between liberal gulps from their dusty glasses. One idly dragged a dirty fingertip around the rim of his half-empty glass as if he was debating whether or not to drink the rest. In one sudden motion, and with a satisfying "ah", he downed his liquor and banged the glass on the table for more. The bartender scuttled over to him, poured more of the same from a bottle, and said in an almost accusing tone, "I'll be adding that to your tab."

"Remember to let me do the talking," Hermione muttered out of the corner of her mouth as they walked up to the counter. The bartender was now wiping the counter with a rag so brown it was hard to imagine that it had ever been white.

"Excuse me, but we're looking for a place to stay the night." The bartender stopped, opened one eye very wide and looked Ron and Hermione up and down.

"Do I know you?"

"I doubt it." He focused on Ron's hair as if he was trying very hard to find a long discarded memory.

"Aren't you a bit young–"

"– Could you please tell us of a place nearby where we might get a room?" His eye fluttered shut and he resumed wiping the counter. They waited and Hermione had just opened her mouth to ask again when he spoke.

"They're about five hotels of 'spectable reputation."

"We'd like the names of all of the places we might get a room in Hogsmeade," Hermione said briskly, pulling out a quill and a scrap of parchment. He opened his eye piercingly and fixed it upon her parchment. Hermione's hand trembled slightly, nervously, but only for a second before she stilled it.

"If you're wanting the names of _all_ the places to stay in Hogsmeade, you're going to need a larger slip of parchment than that."

~~~~~

They always talked before they went to sleep, usually because Ginny would start it and he didn't have the energy to fight her questions with witty, meaningless phrases. He had never worked so hard in his life; she needed help with _everything_. He had to carry her to the bathroom, help her do what girls do on the toilet, carry her from the bathroom, bathe her, get her food, make her eat when she wasn't hungry, carry her from the bed to the chair, make a warming potion, make her take the warming potion…the lists of all the things he had to do went on and on. He had never thought he'd ever have to take care of an invalid in his life. Not that she was one. Sometimes he got the idea that she could do things just fine and merely enjoyed taunting him. He didn't know anything about sick people and for all he knew she was faking everything. She could walk with a great deal of help, and she tried every day. He appreciated that she tried…but there were some times…

"Will you give me a massage?" Groggily he opened his eyes. She lay on her stomach, propped up on her elbows and looked over her shoulder at him, her mouth curved into a cute smile as if she were a Cheshire cat. He regretted giving her the massage the first day; she'd requested one every day since and he was just too tired to give one now.

"Maybe later…"

"You'll be asleep later." _I would be asleep now if you'd stop badgering me…_

She slid further down into the bed putting her nose so that it touched his.

"Please?"

"No." He rolled over and she laughed gently.

"Well, g'night then." He mumbled "goodnight" in response, or at least tried to but it came out more like a groan because opening his mouth took too much effort. She shifted in the bed, bouncing a little more than he thought was necessary before coming to rest and letting him drift away.

~~~~~

            "How many do we have to go?" Ron asked as they stepped out of what he thought must have been the twentieth Bed and Breakfast they'd gone into.

            "Seven," Hermione said, holding her wand to the parchment where the last concierge had written directions. He had been quite alarmed when they had stepped in, shaking snow from the hems of their cloaks, and had crankily informed them that the Bed and Breakfast was full. It turned out the concierge had only gotten up to get a glass of warm milk and lock the door before turning in, but he was as nice as an overworked and sleepy person can be. Many of the lights in the windows of Hogsmeade had gone out, leaving the streets much darker, but the streetlights still burned on and would until daybreak.

            It was taking much longer than any of them had anticipated to check the lodgings. The concierges either didn't know much about their occupants or were unwilling to give information about them and it had taken a mixture or verbal force and coercion before Hermione was satisfied that they didn't have any idea where Ginny was. But with every lodging they checked, the dread in Hermione's stomach began to grow and she worried that they wouldn't find any information regarding Ginny's whereabouts, left instead at yet another dead end. Biting the chap off her lower lip, she glanced at Ron, dragging his feet through the snow with exasperating determination. She could see his lids drooping and didn't wonder why; they had been looking for over two hours, crisscrossing the village of Hogsmeade, and yet they had only been to 5 lodgings. In the selfish part of her mind, she wondered whether the search was best left for another day or if it would be possible for them to sneak off of the grounds to visit Hogsmeade the next night.

            "We're here," a voice said out of the cold, sweeping away Hermione's preoccupation. Harry was still with them. She hadn't remembered to check for him like she usually did.

            As they stepped into the _Pheonix__ Nest_, Hermione prepared herself for another useless inquisition.

~~~~~

            Ginny couldn't sleep. No matter how hard she tried to ignore her stiff muscles, she just couldn't relax enough. She enjoyed taunting Draco, pretending her sickness to make his life difficult. Having decided he deserved a few days of hard work and misery for the centuries his family had oppressed hers, she felt no guilt faking everything. It was simply retribution. She just hadn't realized retribution was so hard.

Ginny stretched, rolling over to face him as he slept. She wished she hadn't given into Draco's grouchiness so quickly, so that he could massage the disuse out of her. The boy was good with his hands, and she wished she didn't know how he had gotten that way. Not first hand of course, but one hears things…

He wasn't bad looking when he slept, she had realized sometime during the past few days. Generally, beauty to her had been paired with personality, that once when she discovered someone's person to be ugly, they just kept getting uglier and uglier whenever she looked at them. But when Draco's eyes were closed and his face relaxed and completely void of expression, he lost the ugliness she always saw. And except for a few times when he had tried to molest her, he had been decent.

She needed to pee. The realization struck her bladder forcefully and she realized Draco hadn't carried her to the bathroom before he fell asleep. Would he notice if she left to go to the bathroom? She would only be gone for a minute or so, and it would be good stretching of her muscles. She hadn't been able to use them much at all, trying to keep up her act. She knew he slept lightly, but he slept so peacefully now. Trying to be as quiet as she could, Ginny slipped out of bed and crept out the door to the bathroom. As she walked gleefully to the bathroom, Draco rolled over in his sleep, searching for the warmth he had grown accustomed to the last few nights. With the clumsiness of the sleeping, he groped around for the warmth and found it wasn't there. He reached more, bordering on the state between sleep and consciousness, before hurtling into the awake with the realization that Ginny wasn't there. Oh bugger.

He sprang up out of bed, grabbing his shirt as he made his way furiously towards the door. He was going to _kill_ the concierge and his brother, provided he found them. Someone had taken her, and _they _had let them. It was just as bad as taking her themselves. And they wouldn't have done that; the Malfoy family wielded too much power. It didn't look like the brothers could afford to be in even direr circumstances.

They couldn't have gone too far; the spot where she had lain was still warm. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. It was ill lit, the candles in the lamps along the wall were short and sputtered a few times before lighting as he passed. He stormed through, ignoring the fact that he couldn't see where his feet were going, heading towards the lit room at the end of the hallway. Suddenly, he felt his entire weight smack into something, sending him flying down.

"Watch it!" the thing that had knocked him over said. He stood up quickly, ignoring the pain that had come with falling. The lamp above him sputtered into life and he saw the obstruction to his path also getting up off the floor. It was Ginny Weasley.

_She had been fooling him_. There was no other way she could have gotten out of bed. Damn her, making him do everything for her even though she could do it perfectly well himself. Damn her for making him crawl around on all fours to serve her. Damn her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice surprisingly steady and unnervingly low and quiet. His father would have been proud.

"Well, I had to pee, so I was heading down to the bathroom to pee, so if you'll excuse me –"  She tried to push past him. He grabbed her arm. She looked down at his hand and then at him. "Let me go."

"Bitch."

"That hurts."

"Wench."

"Draco, let go of me."

"Whore." She pushed him against the wall, putting all the force she had in her against him. He pulled her with him.

"Shut up."

"No. You deceiving little brat." He felt like shaking her, like wrapping his fingers around her beautiful little neck and throttling her.

"Fine, then I'll make you." Her lips came crashing onto his violently, and her tongue demanded entrance into his mouth. He tightened his grip on her arm as his mouth slackened to let her in. Her kiss was forceful and he fought back, their tongues dueling in an eternal battle of wills. She pressed against him, a hand drifting down his body to touch the place that only he had touched before and he wondered if she was just as bold with her boyfriends. 

            Then he felt the pain, a blinding pain in his crotch that made him sink to his knees and curl up in the fetal position. She wrenched herself free and flailed out a hand, miraculously grasping her ankle and making her fall down beside him. Ignoring the pain he clambered on top of her to pin her to the ground while groping in his pocket for his wand that he had haphazardly stuffed there when he left. She tried to knee him again and he caught her leg with the hand that was not desperately searching for his wand, an unfortunate mistake since it freed her hands. She shoved him off of her and he hit the wall, knocking the wind out of him as she scrambled down the hallway. His hand emerged triumphantly from his pocket and he aimed it at her, shouting the first spell that came to mind.

            "_Stupefy!_" the red light burst from the tip of his wand and she collapsed on the ground almost at the end of the hallway. Light from the greeting room splayed down almost touching the tip of an outstretched finger.

            He leaned against the wall, fighting to regain his breath in the few moments that he would have without her to worry about. In all honesty, he had been expecting some sort of ill-conceived escape attempt but she hadn't fought with such brutality since he had first taken her. He had grown accustomed to her compliance and all the little annoying tasks that she requested. Hell, he hadn't even minded sharing a toothbrush with her.

            He walked to her body which lay still, crumpled on the flood. She had landed on her stomach, one arm under her head and her snarled hair spread around her, covering her face. He knelt and brushed her soft hair to the side, in the dimly lit hallway it looked almost brown, and found that it was wet. Had she taken a shower?

            Seeing her so helpless on the ground, he regretted stunning her. And yet there was a peace that radiated from her, a fragile stability that he admired. He smiled slightly in the dim light, knowing that no one would see him and picked her up into his arms, leaning her head against his shoulder. He couldn't see her face, but he didn't care, reveling in the comfort that her touch brought.

            Distantly, he heard a bell tinkle and looked up as the door to the hall from the outside opened and in walked two people cloaked in black, shaking snow from their shoes. Draco's inside's clenched, as the man removed his hood.

            Quickly, he glanced around for a place to hide. A withering Christmas tree stood a few feet away, in the greeting room, and as Weasley and the woman turned to the front desk, he darted behind it, praying that Weasley and the woman he now identified as Granger hadn't seen. Gently, he set Ginny down and leaned her against him.

            "Do you think anyone's still up?" he heard Weasley ask in a hushed voice. He could barely make out the words, but Weasley's red hair came out lucidly between the bristles on the tree.

            "The door's still unlocked," Granger said briskly, "of _course_ someone's still up."

            Draco recognized Granger's agitated tone as a sign of fear and thought it ironic that she should be afraid when his heart was pounding so hard it threatened to leap out of his chest and charge at her like an angry bull at a bullfight.

            Granger rang the bell that sat on the counter and it emitted a rusty squeak. She had to push two more times before a satisfying ding erupted from the bell, causing Weasley to jump. Draco would have laughed, but he felt something cold and wet on his shoulder. He looked down to investigate.

            "How may I help you?"

            _Blood!_

            "Have you seen a slight, red haired teenage girl – "

            " – she looks a bit like me," Weasley offered brightly. Granger scowled.

            _Ginny's bleeding!_ Draco frantically lifted Ginny's head up off of his chest where it rested on a growing stain of blood. He now noticed that the dampness in her hair had come from blood, blood that was flowing freely from her nose. He continued to watch, peeking through the branches of the Christmas tree, as he pressed his cuff up to her nose, keeping her upright with his other arm.

            "I…" Tommy began uncomfortably.

"We hae nae seen your bonnie lass," Jimmy said, coming down the hallway, passing Draco as he hid behind the Christmas tree. Granger and Weasley turned around, looking somewhat surprised to see this old man, identical to the other one, yet so very different. Draco hoped they didn't notice his and Ginny's feet.

"Tommy, I think –  " Tommy began to protest.

" – that this in no' the hour for questioning and bothering people from their beds. Would ye like a room?"

"We're just looking for a friend, could you please tell me if you've seen –"

"We cannae give ye information about our guests," Tommy said firmly, "We can give ye a room, if you'd be wanting one."

"I…" Hermione faltered, looking to Ron for help. He looked at Jimmy with grim determination.

"We would." A false smile spread across Jimmy's face. Ron winked at Hermione, who looked startled and bewildered.

"Jimmy, show our guests to a room."

"But Tommy – " Jimmy turned to Tommy and his smile became rigid.

"I'll be going back to bed. If ye need anything, come find me." Jimmy turned and walked back to the hallway, facing the tree. As he passed, he locked eyes with Draco for a split-second and Draco found a warning there. Draco had every intention of heeding it.

"Please, let me show you to your room," Tommy said, taking a half-melted candle off of the counter and lighting it before he led Granger and Weasley up the stairs. They left wet footprints on the carpet and as Draco watched, he noticed a fourth dustcloud being beat out of the carpet, behind Granger and Weasley. His stomach clenched again; someone else, Potter no doubt, had also come looking for Ginny.

He felt Ginny's head lift slightly and she groaned quietly, shifting her face away from his sleeve.

"Ginny?" he whispered and felt her sigh against him and he felt an odd twinge at her relaxation. He lifted her up again, laying her out between his arms like a groom would carry his bride to bed, and carried her slowly back to the room feeling very tired. 

When he reached the room, he lay her out on the bed, slightly worried that she was still unconscious. But judging by the movement behind her eyes, she was just asleep. He took of his shirt and tipped it in the pitcher of water Tommy had brought before they fell asleep. Gently he washed the blood from her face and hair, noticing that her nosebleed had stopped. His shirt would be ruined, but he didn't care.

            They couldn't stay there any longer, he knew. Tommy and Jimmy had been kind, but since Weasley and Granger were suspicious enough to stay the night and they would undoubtedly find a way to search the entire building, especially since one of them had an invisibility cloak. As he tucked her limp body under the covers, he made up his mind: they had to leave Hogsmeade.

~~~~~

And that's a wrap, on this chapter at least. I'm so sorry I left you all hanging for so much of it. I just got writer's block for a really long time, and then some personal problems came up, but now I'm ba-ack. As in one of my favourite plays "Proof", "The machinery is back on!" Thank you so much reviewers, for really sticking my me and being patient for this chapter. Poking and prodding is really a very good way to get me to write, although inspiration helps too. ;-)


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